As Momma has continued to mention, and as I've come to realize has more merit than I've given credit, there is a certain beauty in striving for balance. I can't say it's always easy, because it's actually seldom easy. It's . . . well . . . it's a balancing act.
There is a certain balancing act that I face a certain five days of the week. I call these work days. There are myriad semi-battles with balance I face that don't occur each work day, and honestly those semi-battles could easily hinge on which particular server happens to be working that particular shift and whether or not it's that one guy I can't make myself not have a crush on, but that's a whole other story for a different day and a different blog.
My underwear of choice has been boxers for everyday wear and boxer briefs for soccer. Not finding ourselves in soccer season, I've worn only boxers for quite some time. I have two choices of them, one slightly thicker/heavier than the other, and I have an equal number of pairs from which to choose between the two different fabrics. When I took my shower yesterday, I found that my only clean option was the last of the thicker fabric pair.
On a whim I chose to go with the boxer briefs that I tend to save for soccer. They are snug fitting though thicker than the less thick boxers. I hoped that perhaps the boxer briefs might be more comfortable for work.
Work . . . unless you've done the job you can't really appreciate what I have in mind when I think of choosing underwear based on work. It's a hot and sweaty job, and if you are even close to as anal retentive as I am then it only makes sense.
We finally get to discussing balance with my anal need to have my clothes fit just so. I have to wear pants with a belt, and if you are familiar with typical chef's pants then you know you don't get that. I wear jeans, not the wisest choice, but I'm okay with it. Add to this the chef's coat and the apron. I'm not comfortable unless my apron is tied below my belt. For this to work I have to give myself plenty of space in the chef's coat.
Plenty of room in the chef's coat means that I raise my arms and shoulders, stretching and pulling the chef's coat up. The apron goes in somewhere above the tail of the chef's coat but below the belt. If I get everything right the apron keeps everything in place while the stretching gives me enough extra space to reach as far as I might need to without pulling the chef's coat out of the apron string.
Add to all of this the fact that underwear never tends to ride down. Boxers are the worst for riding up. When the waste of your boxers are approaching your ribs and your apron strings are slipping past the belt, you realize you've lost your balance, and everything is riding up and away from where you(I) really want it. You can try to ease everything back down, or you can accept that you don't have time to fix anything and there's food that needs to go out. Finally, at some point, I'm just too anal to deal with it. I have to take the apron all the way off and settle the chef's coat and the boxers and reapply the apron.
But with the soccer underwear, the boxer briefs, the underwear doesn't really quite ride up. It is nice to run your thumbs around the waste band at the end of the night when you finally get a chance to pee, loosen up the sweat stick. But that's the same anytime you finally get a chance to pee. The point is they didn't ride up. I can more slightly easily deal with the rest of my gear riding up if my underwear isn't in my armpits.
I might have just sold myself on my soccer britches being my new work britches too. I don't know just yet as I'll have to experiment more, but we'll know soon enough.